”You’re supposed to be working out not eating a snack cake!” Our scene opens as we see a dressed to the nines Shane standing with his arms folded across his chest look down at THE Tristan Slater who is sitting on the end of a bench press bench finishing off a Swiss Cake Roll and the sheer and utter deliciousness overcome THE Tristan Slater. ”Nothing better than a Swiss Cake Roll…” Slater’s attention is directed towards the ground where the XWF Hart Title is resting. THE Tristan Slater reaches down picking up the gold strap as he continues. ”Wait… I stand corrected.” Slater tosses the Hart Title over his right shoulder as he looks up towards Shane who is far from amused as he states. ”Looks good on me, don’t you think?” Shane shakes his head before snatching the title off the shoulder of THE Tristan Slater which immediately prompts Slater to stand up and go face to face with Shane as the intensity starts to build before Shane says. ”Well hello, there he is.” It’s as if the one motion of removing the Hart Title from Slater’s shoulder has snapped Slater out of the feel good moment he was trying to have. ”I was wondering if he still existed or if he was complacent with being a fucking punching bag! Sure you got the dupe on Centurion and took his title but you don’t think he’s not going to be coming after you to get it back?!


”I want him to come and get it. Do you think I hijacked this title to tote it around and use it as a way to get a title shot? Fuck that amateur shit bro, I took it so he’d have no choice BUT to meet me face to face and accept or deny my challenge… and should he accept it I want it to be Japanese Strong Style. Shane, it’s time that I got back to my roots and hone in on what brought me to the dance to begin with. What better way to use Centurion as that spring board to do just that; sure I’ve got to waste my time with the worst stand-up comic of all time to get there, sure I’ve got to waste my time inside a Steel Cage with a guy who belongs in the ring with Dark Shadow rather than a Tristan Slater…” There’s absolutely no games within the tone of THE Tristan Slater as he continue to stare a hole through Shane . ”You want me to work out? You want me to pump some iron, perhaps hit a treadmill? Robbie Bourbon couldn’t catch me on his best day or my worst….


“Robbie Bourbon is so fat he got arrested for carrying around ten pounds of crack.”


“Robbie Bourbon is so fat he wakes up on BOTH sides of the bed.”


“Robbie Bourbon is so fat that even Dora couldn’t explore em’.”


“Robbie Bourbon is so fat people jog around him for exercise!”


“Robbie Bourbon is so fat he jumped up in the air and got stuck!”


“Robbie Bourbon is so fat his belly button gets home fifteen minutes before he does!”


“Robbie Bourbon is so fat his farts cause global warming!”


“Robbie Bourbon is so fat even Kirby can’t eat him!”


“Robbie Bourbon is so fat that when he fell in love… he broke it!”


“Robbie Bourbon is so fat that Stephen Hawking based his black hole theory on his ass hole.”


“Robbie Bourbon is so fat… the horse on his polo shirt… is REAL!”


“Robbie Bourbon is so fat that when any girl pictures him in their head he breaks their neck!”


“Robbie Bourbon is so fat that half of him is in a parallel universe!”


“My point is Robbie Bourbon is one fat fuck that is more likely choking on a piece of chocolate cake than he is at beating me. You saw that piss poor attempt to come at me; clearly not bothering to take me seriously.. .and that’s okay, I expect it from someone that’s on a bigger losing streak than I ever thought about being on. He literally ripped jokes he pulled from the internet and replaced a name with mine… SO ORIGINAL that I simply had to do the same thing… only better… per usual” Tristan reaches out taking the Hart Title from Shane’s hands as he looks down at the gold plate. ”After I’m don’t wasting my time with Bourbon, after I beat that stupid little bastard within an inch of his life and after I make an example out of him I’ll be waiting for Centurion so I can hand him his strap back and get the answer to my question. Does he want to pick a fight with me?” Shane see’s the fire in the eyes of THE Tristan Slater as he takes a step backwards realizing that perhaps the fire has been reignited under the ass of Slater because this isn’t the same guy. ”I want him to pick a fight with me more than I’ve ever wanted someone too. He has the XWF eating out of the palm of his hand and that’s a piece of what’s wrong with this place.”


”But what if Centurion loses that title between now and March Madness? He’s got game competition with THE THREAT that is Peter Gilmour coming up before the Pay-Per-View… so it might not be Centurion, it might be against one of our own.” Light shaking his head THE Tristan Slater immediately responds. ”Shane this has NEVER been about the Hart Title; hell the only reason I stole it is because it’s HIS prized treasure at the moment AND it is the ultimate sign of disrespect I can give him right now. The fact he isn’t showing off this piece of gold is a chip to his ego and he KNOWS it.” Tristan emphatically states with conviction in within the tone of his voice as he continues. ”So WHEN Peter shocks the world and show Centurion just how much of a THREAT he is and takes this very Hart Title from him I’m not going to be knocking on his door because this isn’t about the goddamn title. I want Centurion, and if he happens to be Hart Champion he won’t be when I’m through with him… then again maybe he will be… he could always refuse the title implication and just fight me. I’m cool with either.”


”Sounds like it.” THE Tristan Slater tosses the Hart Title on the ground beside the weight bench as he spouts out. ”So where were we? Workout, oh yes how could I forget that piece of business! Oh yeah, when I saw how little effort Robbie bothered to show this fight that he picked with me why should I give him any of my time for real? Think about it. He knocked on my door and he shits all over it. Perhaps that was his intention the entire time, and if that’s the case it’s certainly going to be no laughing matter when I continue his trend of LOSING high profile matches he calls out for. Robbie isn’t anything but filler for me and is literally being used so that I can FINALLY catch that elusive victory that’s been just out of my grasp. It only takes on win to shift ones luck and I’m going to use two tons of fun to get that win. He couldn’t get past Engineer, he couldn’t get past Centurion and he’s not going to get past me so that only leaves Gilly to put his foot in his ass and that will sum up the final run of Robbie Bourbon.”


”It seems like you’ve got this pretty much figured out.”


”It wasn’t a hard egg to crack.” With that our scene fades to black.




[i]The Promo:



Lord does Bourbon have this all wrong as his approach thus far is lacking in everything including originality. I guess the term “soft open” only applies to certain people around here as the direct mention of something in my promo clearly went unnoticed, typical. Let’s get past that and discuss not only how lazy your shit is but just how okay you are being looked at as a joke as opposed to the man trying to tell them. I mean I felt bad for you just for a brief second before I snapped out of it and reminded myself that you’ve brought all of this on yourself. The sheer embarrassment that you’re going to receive for being the one guy that sucks worse than I do within the ranks of the pecking order of this federation. I literally wanted to “one line” your ass with this second piece of business but then I started thinking about how lowering myself to YOUR standard for a match is bad enough but I’m REFUSING to allow you to get anything less than my best.


I’m going to exploit you and use you to get to my short term goal because not only am I better than you… I’m better than Centurion too.


For entirely too long I’ve been held under the thumb of management because I don’t fit the “mold” of who they “think” is marketable and now I’m going to break out and skyrocket to the top under the guidance of the single greatest man walking the face of God’s green Earth… “SUPER-SHAMELSS” Shane and it starts Saturday Night on Savage and will continue with Centurion as I take his legacy and cram it down the fucking toilet where it belongs. The fun and games are over and now it’s all about actions speaking louder than any words could. I’m not going to pretend to be something I’m not, I’m not going to host a lame pancake breakfast and tell mindless jokes like they literally mean anything other than showing how lazy I am. Nah, I’ll leave that for guys like you Robbie. The cream rises to the top and it doesn’t matter how you slice this cake it ends with me standing over your bloody body. And just because you’ve wasted my time this week I’ll be sure to leave a lasting impression on you by providing you with a spoiler… I’m taking your mask after I kick your ass. As for the higher ups that continue to try and hold me back you can refuse me television time while granting it to others, you can try to hold me accountable to certain rules while allowing others to break them and you can continue to try and hold me back and hold me down but ultimately the cream is going to rise to the top and when I hit my stride there’s not a person on this or any roster that is going to be able to touch me. In the meantime I’ll close this out with this since Robbie couldn’t come up with his own shit to save his fucking life…. It took you all week to mutter out eight hundred words and since we all know WRESTLING isn’t your strong suit you might have found your niche’ jockeying Pancake Breakfast as that seems to be more your speed. Do you seriously think that bringing my mother into this makes you anything more than a second rate Chris Page rip off? It’s literally head shaking shit when it comes to you and what you’re willing to say just because you think you’re going to get the reaction that you’re looking for. It’s actually kind of sad to see you leach on to the work of others in order to try to give yourself an edge that simply doesn’t exist.


I’m glad that you’ve undersold me like you’ve done.


I’m glad that I’m this big push over in your eyes to the degree that you seriously think that I’m not a threat to you because it’s only going to make my victory that much sweeter; make no mistake about it buttercup you might enter that Steel Cage on your own two feet but you’re going to leave it strapped to a motherfucking stretcher and the only thing that’s going to suck is you when you’re sipping your meals through a goddamn straw. Your ass belongs to me.